Damned Spot
by Purtail
Summary: The specter of a certain man begins to haunt Jane at every turn - a man she herself killed. And sadly, that's only the beginning of her problems.


**Damned Spot**

**Summary: **The specter of a certain man begins to haunt Jane at every turn - a man she herself killed. And sadly, that's only the beginning of her problems.

**Notes:** I've had this sitting in my Google Docs since 2016 and I didn't want to bring it into the new decade haha (I published it on Ao3 the last day of 2019). Also: This is NOT meant to imply rape. This is just a case of two people using each other for mutual gain. Neither Jane nor Troy are good people, after all. Since Jane caused Troy's death, I thought it was fitting that he cause hers in turn.

* * *

When they'd first returned to Howe's, Jane thought she'd finally found an ounce of stability. At last, some of her past demons had fallen off her scent, allowing a moment of thought to herself. She'd settled in with Clementine and AJ rather quickly, fixing up some of the broken outer walls and polishing up a spare room for them all to sleep in.

And for the first few weeks, things were nice - peaceful, even. She saw this as a new beginning, a chance to mend her mistakes by showing she'd learned from them. After all, she'd never be able to fix what had been wrong with Jamie, fix what _happened _to Jamie, but she could start over with Clementine now.

This time, she wouldn't let Clementine die - or AJ for that matter - and on the contrary, she intended to give them both the skills to live their longest lives possible. Jane could especially see the fire in Clementine, knew that the girl was capable of survival and almost didn't need the gentle nudges she gave - but she gave them anyway, offering support and lessons when the opportunity arose.

It wasn't going to make everything better, but she was starting to feel okay again - like she could finally be a big sister to a little girl that _deserved_ to live.

It hurt her to think of her own flesh and blood as somehow undeserving of life, but it was what Jamie wanted, wasn't it? Jane could only see what happened as the tragic end of Jamie's life - like the climax of a book, that day on the roof was just the sad final chapter in a lengthy novel about a girl whose story had to end.

Jane's story, however, continued on with its twists and turns, running into various groups with differing dynamics in her travels after Jamie. In fact, she really hadn't stopped meeting new people; the very day the three of them had made their way back to Howe's, a family of outsiders had threatened to invade their space. Thank god Clementine was smart and had sent them away, even after seeing they had a child who was 'in need'. Jane wasn't even sure if she could've done that, so she was grateful the little girl had the balls to do it.

They'd occasionally get another set of 'visitors,' but they were always rejected and didn't return for revenge or anything. Things continued to be fine, for a while.

Until one morning, they weren't.

The minute she opened her eyes, Jane felt like something was… off. Her hands shook when she tried to pull herself up out of bed and the world lurched around her, the room tilting and turning nauseatingly. Her stomach churned, making her double over with a surprised yelp, holding onto her abdomen as if it was on fire. The intense feeling faded quickly, but she was still alarmed it happened in the first place.

Was this an empty stomach feeling? It wasn't exactly uncommon for the world nowadays, as she was used to eating less - but this just felt _different_. In fact, she remembered having a meal with Clementine and AJ the night before, so this couldn't be hunger.

Even as the world stabilized before her, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong - or more wrong than things usually were. Regardless, she tried to clear her thoughts by pacing a few steps around her room, rummaging through boxes piled up in the corner and absentmindedly taking inventory of their supplies.

"_Goddamn, Jane. I thought you were at least a little more organized than this." _

A sudden voice made her freeze in place, a chill running down her spine. The voice was so familiar that she almost believed for a second its owner was actually behind her. Of course, he couldn't _really_ be standing there, that was impossible - he was dead, she made sure of that - and yet the words had sounded so terrifyingly _real_.

Maybe she was still dreaming. Subtly, she pinched at her skin, noting the brief twinge of pain with the mildest despair.

_Okay, no big deal. Maybe you're just a little too tired. Or it could be that you're overworking yourself. Really, any explanation is a plausible one, unless you consider him actually being ther-_

"_Are you really gonna just ignore me? Didn't we have somethin' __**SPECIAL**__?"_

She couldn't stop a flinch at the sudden shift in tone, the way the last word had such a purely haunting ring to it. A soft growl let loose through her lips, teeth grinding against one another in a desperate attempt to keep herself quiet. If she interacted with it, with this _illusion_, she'd just have to admit to herself that she's crazy.

"_You _are_ crazy. That's hot, though."_

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the unwanted voice away. Memories crept through her mind like parasites, making her ill with each flash of instances she'd rather forget. Her body didn't forget, either; her fingertips went cold as she recalled running them through his hair, nails scratching at his back and her legs wide open-

"_I'm glad it meant somethin' to you. It meant somethin' to me, too."_

At that, her heart began to pound against her chest as she felt, for the first time in a long while, a crippling sort of fear. Swallowing hard, her mouth became dry, her tongue useless to respond right away. But she needed to prove to herself that this was nothing, that she was hearing things and that _that person _couldn't possibly be in the room with her.

"This isn't real," she reminded herself, her voice like gravel. "He's dead. You killed him. He's dead, he's dead, _he's dead_." The bastard had annoyed her one too many times, and she needed walker bait - so he fit the bill nicely. There was nothing to be regretful of, either; no one liked him, so no one would miss someone like _Troy_.

In fact, everyone else just ignored his agonized screams when the creatures closed in on him, gnawing at his flesh and literally tearing him apart. And she would _never_ be sorry for shooting him in the dick, because he _deserved_ it. Of all the weak chicken-shits she'd met, he was easily the biggest and worst of them all.

And yet, she'd still went and…

Shaking her head again, she banished those memories to the darkest pits of her subconscious, hopefully to make them suffocate and never reappear.

Those memories weren't necessary… just like Troy, really. He was a burden on all that knew him, such a stupid _asshole_ \- he wasn't _needed_, so she'd done the world a favor and gotten rid of him.

She almost hadn't noticed the silence creeping into the room, and let out a sigh of relief. It seemed her mind was playing tricks on her again (something that did, admittedly, happen all-too-often now), and she was completely alone in the room. Sitting back on her haunches, she ran a hand through her short hair, smoothing her fingers over the short strands. She liked her hair like this; of course it was functional to protect her from getting grabbed, but it also had a nice texture to feel - like freshly-cut grass. It was a soothing motion, and she found herself doing it more and more lately.

Jane eased herself onto her feet, taking more deep, slow breaths, and turned around.

"_I ain't gonna leave you alone." _

He was there.

She could tell right away it wasn't really him, for his face was pale and his eyes were sunken in and almost blacked out. He looked weary, but definitely in one piece - which contradicted how she last left him. But he was still _standing_ there, in her room, leaning casually against the wall like he didn't have a care in the world. Like being dead wasn't something he needed to worry about.

Screwing her eyes shut, Jane shook her head vigorously, trying to will the spectre away. But when she opened her eyes, he was still there, and seemed to be _smirking_, black lips curled into a sneer.

"_What, you think shootin' my dick off could get rid'a me? As-fuckin'-if, Jane. You got away with lyin' to me, and even got the __**LITTLE SHIT**__ to shoot that asshole Kenny, but you ain't escapin' me." _He actually laughed, throwing his head back; the sound was horrific, like nails on a chalkboard. _"Nah, I'm here to __**STAY**__." _

Jane narrowed her eyes, finding a bit of her old snappiness when she looked at his very punchable face. "No, Troy. You'll go away because you aren't _wanted_ here - you aren't wanted _anywhere_. So get out of my face." With a scoff, she tried to brush him off, beginning to pace around the bed, towards the door.

"_Still a feisty __**BITCH**__, Jane. I like that. I like __**YOU**__."_

With a yell, she picked up the nearest object - a broken alarm clock on the nightstand beside her bed - and hurled it towards him. Predictably, it went straight through him and shattered against the wall, shards raining down onto the floor. He didn't even flinch, but went silent as another voice came from outside the room.

"Jane…? Is everything okay in there…?" Clementine called through the closed door, her voice quiet and hesitant.

_Clementine. _It felt nice to hear the kid's voice again, like a fresh gulp of air after keeping her head underwater for so long. She let a long sigh loose, catching her breath as if she'd actually been drowning.

"Y-yeah, Clem," she stammered, her voice strained. "Just a nightmare."

After a few moments of silence, Clementine replied, "Okay. Want to sleep for a little more? I can extend my watch and wake you up in a little bit."

There was no way she'd be able to sleep again, at least not right now - with him still standing in the corner. She took a few more breaths to calm down, eventually moving to open the door. Clementine blinked in surprise at her, AJ asleep in her arms.

"I'm good, don't worry." She had to push the words past her lips, but she still tried her hardest to believe them. Troy laughed under his breath, rolling a shoulder casually as she snapped her head back to glare at him. Just as she turned back to Clementine, however, she noticed the girl peering slightly into the doorway, as if to see what Jane had been looking at.

Coughly slightly, Jane waved it off. "You should get some sleep now, Clem. How's the little guy doing?"

Clementine brightened at the mention of AJ, looking down at the bundle in her arms warmly. "He's doing fine. Aren't you, goofball?"

She rocked him gently, listening to him softly coo and open his big, round eyes. Honestly, Clementine was a natural at this - Jane had no worries about her ability to take care of the baby. They often had to swap between watching over AJ, sleeping, and doing perimeter checks around the base, and Jane never worried too much about Clem. She let the girl do her own thing most of the time - a far contrast from Jamie and her neediness.

"See you in a little bit," Clementine said, snapping Jane out of her thoughts.

With a nod, Jane replied, "Right. See you, Clem."

Thankfully, Troy didn't follow her outside, but in the back of her mind, Jane wondered if Clementine would see him, too.

* * *

Of course, she hadn't. Jane was sure Clementine would mention spotting a ghost in the room - he was kind of hard to ignore while he was alive, and even more so in death - and she seemed perfectly normal when they'd swapped shifts again. AJ slept in their shared room, nestled in a warm basket of blankets high above the ground. It was the safest place they could keep him, away from the doors and windows and high enough so a walker couldn't grab him.

Once AJ was settled, Jane flopped onto her bed, exhaustion aching in her bones. Her eyes fluttered shut and slumber dragged her down, down, down into darkness. Deep laughter echoed from the walls surrounding her, but she couldn't be bothered to listen.

She dreamt of hands pulling at her in all directions, stretching her skin until blood and bones burst from her flesh. A scream ripped out of her throat as she was suspended in a blank, colorless void, wisps of past mistakes whispering in her ear.

"_If y' help me, I'll help you, y'know?" _

"_Damn - damn, you're good. Wanna do this again sometime? There's definitely more privileges that can be arranged."_

"_You gotta get a bath before we-" _

"_That's the most human I've felt in a long time- Clementine!?"_

"_I can confirm there was no time for kissing."_

And then she was free-falling through the nothingness, her body growing numb. Several sets of eyes, all large and distorted, watched her from above - they looked upon her with disdain, like each breath she took was judged and would be punished.

What had she done to deserve such a fate?

Her eyes snapped open and her stomach heaved in protest, thin bile expelling through her mouth and dripped down her chin. She trembled, holding a hand to her mouth and ran for the bathroom - past the specter still standing by the wall - and threw the rest of her stomach's contents into the toilet.

"_Aw. You __**SICK**__, Jane? What's'a matter?"_

As she wiped at her lips, Jane's eyes tightly squeezed closed. She took some deep breaths, mentally counting to ten. It was just a nightmare - she'd had plenty of those in her lifetime, so this was nothing to be frightened of.

Her mind was tired from all the recent events, she reasoned; the fight with Kenny had definitely spooked her more than she was willing to admit, the gamble of AJ's life more taxing than she let on. Perhaps this was her brain letting her know she needed more rest - yes, that must be it.

Shakily, she got to her feet, spinning around and almost jumping at the sight of Troy. Of course he hadn't gone anywhere - she hadn't expected him to - but she still hadn't gotten used to the sight of the ghost.

"You're still here," she said, stupidly.

"_A'course. Like I said, I ain't goin' __**ANYWHERE**__."_

"What do you want from me?" Her voice sounded so weak, so small - nothing like it had the last time she'd spoke to him alive. "Can't you just fuck off and rest in pieces?"

He didn't justify her with a worded response - merely laughed again, the grating sound scraping against her ears. His eyes, despite being empty pools of black, told her all she needed to know. Troy's specter wasn't after anything in particular, nothing physical or alleviating like an apology - no, he simply wanted her to suffer.

And the son-of-a-bitch just continued to stare at her, rotten lips curled into a smirk. It was almost as if he _knew _something she didn't - but what did he even know, being a fucking _ghost_? Did he forget which one of them was the _dead _one here - who, exactly, was left to walk around with a mangled body as a _monster_?

Come to think of it, Luke was dead, too; Jane briefly wondered why he didn't haunt her this way. But of course, Troy had an answer for that.

"_You didn't __**KILL**__ Luke. He has no fuckin' reason to be here."_

A sorrowful feeling crept into her heart at the thought of Luke, the sentiment powerful enough to make her feel a false sort of regret with the ghost before her. "And _you_, Troy? What's your reason to be here?" Ghosts could pass on to the afterlife (or the underworld, in Troy's case) if the issues tying them to the living were solved, right? Maybe she could-

"_Ain't it obvious? To make your life __**HELL**__. But also t' figure out __**WHY**__."_

"Why I killed you?" She bit her lip; he wanted an answer, believing there to be a deeper reason than convenience. For the first time, she wished there was something else she could tell him, if only to send him on his way faster.

But perhaps there was something he would be satisfied with.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why," she whispered. "But I… I _am_ sorry for what I did to you. I'm- I'm _sorry_, Troy."

The words flowed so naturally, she almost believed them herself. But no matter how much emotion she placed behind her words, no matter how much she _wished _they could be true to make the hauntings stop… the two of them both understood she didn't mean any of it.

The ghost scoffed, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. _"Nice try. You almost made me believe that shit. Almost." _

"Troy-"

"_But y'know what? Even if you _were _really sorry, y' still shot me in the fuckin' dick and left me to be __**EATEN ALIVE**__. So I ain't leavin' you. You're gonna suffer, too."_

"I-" she squeaked, cut off by his roar.

"_SHUT THE __**FUCK **__UP! You just don't get it, do you? You have __**NO FUCKIN' IDEA **__what you did to me - and you don't even __**GIVE A**__**SHIT**__!"_ He snarled, spit flying from his lips.

Her mouth hovered open, trying to form another reply, but eventually it just snapped shut. He was correct - she hadn't cared when she shot him, merely seeing him as bait, and she didn't care now. She wasn't sorry - she'd _never_ be sorry - and the spirit of Troy could see that, clear as day.

Her fingers dug into her head, nails scraping against the tender flesh of her scalp, and she just barely swallowed a scream. Clementine was surely in hearing distance, so she bit down on her tongue until she tasted copper.

_Damn it._

It became all-too-clear to her, then: she was Lady Macbeth, and _he_ was her damned spot - and he _wouldn't come out_ no matter what she did. No amount of washing would rid her hands of the blood, of the cold reality that she'd remorselessly mutilated and killed this man - the same man she'd let _fuck _her only days before she murdered him.

* * *

The nights only got harder, and the days felt longer. Her body ached, and she found herself needing to sit down more often; if Clementine noticed her fatigue, she didn't comment on it, but Jane couldn't help but feel _useless_. She was hardly ever hungry anymore, but still felt herself growing heavier - it wasn't like they had a scale to check, but she could just _feel _that something was different.

Her shadow didn't look like hers, as if it was a stranger's - it chased her around relentlessly in the grueling daytime, and hid behind her pillow at night. _He_ stayed too, as he'd promised, every instance of her suffering only making his smirk grow wider.

The terrors continued to plague her, mercilessly attacking her mind and leaving her unable to truly sleep. Relentlessly she tossed and turned in her bed, entangled in sheets and sweat and screams.

Sometimes, she'd wake up in the middle of the night to see Troy standing before her bed, his head thrown back in laughter. The noise was so terrifying and so _loud_ \- it was hard to believe he was just an illusion, and Clementine wasn't able to hear him.

Troy's presence cut deep, _deep _into every corner of her cracking mind, burying itself like a parasite. No matter how tightly she closed her eyes, nor how desperately she tried to think of something (_anything_) else, she couldn't escape. It was a constant fight against her mind, and she was _losing_.

In time, the bastard even started to follow her outside of the room. Sometimes, his silence was heavier than his taunts and laughs; though, she had to admit that not hearing his annoying Southern drawl could be a blessing, despite the eerie looks he gave her.

"Please leave me alone," she'd find herself whispering, as if willing him away verbally would work.

"_Nah, don't think I will,"_ he'd spit, and continue to stare.

Things never got _better_, really, and the stress of his specter continued to plague her - until one night, where it all escalated into something much, much worse.

After her watch shift, Jane had just wanted to rest. She'd been feeling very lethargic lately, which wasn't like her at _all _\- she chalked it up to the meddlesome ghost in her ear, but she wasn't so sure he could affect her in _this _way. She doubted he could make her feel _physically_ ill - not when he was just affecting her _mental _state.

"_You don't look so hot,_" Troy sneered, something mocking in his blackened eyes.

She shot him a blank look, not missing a beat in her reply. "I seem to remember you saying differently, before." The _dog _hadn't been able to keep his hands off her, sweet-talking her with any word his tiny brain could conjure up in the moment, including '_hot_'.

"_Fuck off. Y' know what I meant. You look like shit._"

"Thanks, Troy. You always were a charmer," Jane muttered, rolling her eyes. Though she tried to play it off, she was still anxious about her fatigue. "I don't know why I feel like this…" Hands running through her hair, she gave the short strands a frustrated tug and heaved a long sigh.

"_Guess you don't realize it yet. __**CONGRATULATIONS**__ are in order, Jane."_

She looked up at him again, her face twisted in puzzlement. _Congratulations_? For what? What could he possibly be talking about-

Wait.

A cold feeling dropped into her stomach like a stone. The symptoms were all adding up at once - nausea and vomiting in the morning, feeling unfamiliar with her own body, gaining weight despite eating less…

Was… was she _pregnant_?

The thought settled into her mind rather cruelly, taking its time to really connect and make sense. A chill ran up her spine, seizing her senses and immobilizing her to the spot.

_Pregnant. _The word probably brought joy to most women, but Jane could only feel terror. A baby- she couldn't bring a fucking _baby _into this kind of world…!

With trembling legs, she walked over to a desk in the corner of the room. It had been Carver's, no doubt, and possessed a few items she never thought she'd have to use: one of them being a pregnancy test. Holding back a choking sob, she ran to the bathroom to use it.

She had to be sure - a ghost's word was nothing to go on, after all.

Moments later, she emerged from the bathroom with a dead look on her face and a positive pregnancy test - and of course, Troy was right there to catch her expression.

"_It's true, then? Hell yeah! Better plan a fuckin' baby shower!"_ he cheered mockingly. His face was drawn in such a cruel expression - it made her _sick_. Even if he was a figment of her imagination, his pleasure at her pain was all-too-real and familiar.

"I..." Her voice trailed off into silence, a hand going to her stomach in shock.

"_Ain't this excitin', Jane? You get to be a mom! Can't see why you'd be upset, other'n the fact that you're bringin' a kid into this hell of a world, and puttin' yourself and Clementine in danger."_ Troy said it so confidently, she wanted to deny it - but it would get her nowhere, as it _was _the truth.

Besides, that wasn't the _only _reason she was disturbed.

As though he could read her thoughts, Troy continued, _"Is there somethin' __**ELSE**__ botherin' you? Hm? Can't see another reason you'd look so depressed - unless, a'course, it's 'cause you don't know the daddy."_

The prick's smirk made it obvious he _knew _that was the answer; why did Troy's ghost have to be so much smarter than he actually had been in life? If he'd had _a fraction_ the perception skills he displayed now, he might've been able to keep his dick.

Regardless, he'd hit the nail on the head, and her face betrayed her once again.

"It… the father _has_ to be… Luke…" Jane's voice trailed off into a pitiful rasp as she realized what the specter was getting at: she'd had sex with _two _men in the appropriate time span. There were _two _potential fathers to her child.

"_You sure about that?" _Ghost-Troy seemed to catch on quickly - unlike his mortal varient._ "Fuckin' __**WHORE**__."_

Her mind grew numb and detached from reality. Calmly, she sat down on her bed, hands folded on her lap for a moment as she collected herself. Then, as quick as a finger snap, she lurched forward and retrieved the knife from its holster on her side. Pointing the end towards her stomach, she took some deep breaths and prepared herself for pain.

Troy looked on with his blackened gaze; his judgment was silent for once, but very palpable (or as much as a ghost's could be). Her hand froze, fingers gripping the blade's hilt tightly and muscles twitching in anticipation. Though her mind screamed for her to do it, to kill this unwanted thing in her stomach… another stronger part of her won in the end. The knife dropped to the floor with a clatter, and tears pooled behind her eyes in frustration.

Her hands curled around her bedsheets as she hissed, "Damn it. _Fuck_ _you_, Troy."

"_I mean, like we were sayin' - y' kinda already did," _Troy pointed out snarkily._ "But if you wanted to go again…" _

"No!" Jane cried out, shaking her head. "No, I- don't you see? That was - just a big fucking mistake. All of it was a _mistake_!"

Troy's dark eyes narrowed. _"Was it? Or are you just __**ASHAMED **__of yourself for enjoyin' it?"_

"I didn't enjoy _anything_ about you - thought that message was clear with the bullet to your dick," she snapped back. "This baby - it can't be yours. It just _can't_. I refuse to believe it."

His features twisted into a dark, sneering expression. _"You'll never know for sure, huh? Always be wonderin'."_

Jane sighed as she recognized how right he was; she thought she'd put an end to Troy back at Howe's, but in reality, a part of him had obviously stuck with her. And now, she might very well be bearing his child, and if that was the case... she'd _never _be rid of him - and if it _wasn't _his, she'd always know that it _almost _was. No matter the circumstances, as long as Jane lived, there'd forever be _some_ reminder of Troy in her future.

The thought was positively nauseating - almost as much as this damned child in her stomach.

_What can I possibly do?! _Shame burned through her at the thought; she'd been so hellbent on braving the world without baggage, and in her craving for just a _short_ physical release, had completely fucked herself over.

Jane decided to pause for a moment and think things over critically. If she kept the child and gave birth, things would become even more difficult, assuming she lived through the strenuous process. She'd been so cruel in the face of Rebecca's plight, having no idea she'd be challenged the same way months later.

A child would become a tremendous burden, and _Jane_ would have to take care of it. _Jane _would be the sole caretaker, as she couldn't expect Clementine to watch over two infants. Another mouth to feed would put everyone in their party at risk, as well.

To put it simply: going through with the birth was a death sentence for Jane, Clementine, AJ, _and _the unborn child.

But killing it now? Jane considered that outcome; if she didn't want to directly stab into her stomach (which, she could admit now, was probably a poor decision), all she would have to do is find alcohol to drink. There would be so many easy ways of killing it, and killing nowadays was much easier for a human being than it probably should be.

Against her better judgment, Jane thought of Rebecca, and how unashamed of her pregnant status she was. Granted, she had hangups about the father - something Jane could relate to, as well - but she was never willing to put an end to her baby just for the sake of living on herself.

Was it selfish of Jane, then, to even contemplate sacrificing her child for her own life? Jane was capable of a lot of things, but even _she_ didn't think she had it in her to directly murder her innocent, unborn child.

So what was there to do? What could possibly be done in this damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don't scenario? She mentally wallowed there for a few moments, stuck in the increasingly upsetting impasse like a puddle of tar, until she reached the conclusion that neither choice would work.

There was only one way out.

"_Ah, you figured it out. There's only one way t' make all this go away, Jane."_ Troy was now eyeing her hungrily, much like he did when they first met.

Through the haze of her panic, Jane looked up and faced him. "One way?" she echoed lifelessly.

He nodded. _"One way. And you know what you gotta do." _And his ghostly hand moved forward to clasp hers, and she swore she could feel his cold fingers. As she stared at him, wide-eyed, he curled his mouth to another smug grin.

Wrenching her gaze from him, she turned and ran to the bathroom. In that terrifying moment, she did the only thing she could think of - turn on the hot water and scrub at her hands and arms until she could feel clean again. The scalding temperature burned her, but in a way, it felt righteous; not only was she getting the feel of Troy's cold hand off her skin, but she was punishing herself for _fucking_ him in the first place.

Of all the stupid, stupid, _stupid_ things to do…!

It wasn't fair. She wanted to scrub her very soul of him, destroy the parts of her body he'd been so unexpectedly gentle with. She wanted to find a time machine, travel far back, away from Howe's and Carver and Troy and even Clementine - she wanted to be sixteen again, getting yelled at by her parents for sneaking alcohol into the house. She didn't want to be here, half-wanting to shoot a hole in her belly to rid herself of an unwanted _spawn_.

But through the sounds of running water and her own grunts of effort, she could hear him laughing behind her. That evil, evil laugh that shook her to the very _core_.

_Out damned spot, out damned spot, leave me alone Troy, __**leave me alone**__!_

* * *

The next morning's walk to the outside felt final, like a death march. And it was - though she didn't want to acknowledge it consciously yet.

Troy followed, of _course_, silently walking behind her. He was utterly presenceless; obviously, there wouldn't be any signs of breathing or footsteps, but Jane had grown to see him as an actual being that haunted her, rather than a figment of her imagination.

There was little left to do now, but she had one last obligation to fulfill.

She'd wanted to give Clementine a tattoo, and intended to follow through with her promise. Regardless of what happened to Jane, she was confident Clementine was strong enough to survive. The tattoo would merely be an extra incentive, a permanent reminder of who the girl was fighting for.

Troy stood by quietly as she worked, her makeshift needle digging and carving the letters 'AJ' into soft flesh. Clementine didn't seem too pleased with the result, fingers rubbing at it carefully.

"It kinda hurts," the preteen said, tilting her head to inspect it closer.

"_Kinda sucks,"_ Troy observed.

Jane sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. She'd never been the best artist, but it seemed the stress and recent… _discovery_ had made her concentration dwindle.

"I'm sorry, I know it sucks," she groaned, shaking her head.

Clementine stared back at her, a near-pitying look on her face. The kid was great at reading the atmosphere, and she could tell almost instantly that something was up.

Jane knew she couldn't hide it all from her, either, as she deserved the truth. "I'm… I haven't been sleeping well lately," she confessed, her voice hoarse. Standing up, she turned around and set her gaze on the big sign labelling Howe's, eyes empty.

"I've noticed," Clementine replied, quietly.

Troy was still nearby, arms crossed and also facing the store's front. _"Never thought this place would be my final restin' spot, y'know. But it should all be over soon."_

Closing her eyes, Jane tried to ignore him, but found herself continuing, "So many people died here. So many _ghosts_. Sometimes, they're all I think about - especially during the night." She couldn't bring herself to mention the spirit standing next to her, but she did flick her sights on him - on his strange, expressionless face - for a moment before looking away.

"_Didn't know you thought about me so much," _Troy muttered, but there was no hint of snark in his voice. He didn't have a scary look on his face anymore; in fact, he seemed almost… _puzzled _by her talk of ghosts, as if he hadn't been the one haunting her this whole time.

Jane grew silent; she wasn't about to _talk _to the ghost, but she tried to will him away with her thoughts - or at least, give him an answer. You're_ the one who showed up randomly. _You're_ the one who bothers me. This whole time, it's been _you_._

"_But who caused me t' be here in the first place?"_

_Go away_, she thought with a shake of her head. _You don't belong here._

"_We're two of a kind, then; ain't like you belong, either_," he murmured, and she started to believe him.

"Ghosts don't scare me," Clementine said, breaking through the interaction and anchoring Jane back to reality. "They don't have teeth - or guns." Her response was almost _relieving_, an assurance that she was aware of the real threats of the world and knew how to handle them. There was no doubt in Jane's mind: Clementine would be just fine.

The preteen continued to coo at AJ lovingly, trying to get him to say 'goofball'. It was pretty endearing how much she loved that infant - how much of a natural parent she was, even at her young age.

Jane scoffed lightly, walking back towards Clementine. "Y'know, he does need a middle name," she pointed out. "His parents… they never got a chance. Go on, pick one."

"_Troy, obviously," _the ghost suggested, sounding completely serious. Jane shot him an irritated glance; he had to know that was the absolute _last _name she would let Clementine select.

"How about… Lee?" Clementine suggested, brightening. "He would've loved this little guy."

Clementine had mentioned her dead mentor before, but Jane never felt really interested enough to ask about him - and especially now, she found she couldn't care less.

"I was just thinking 'Jamie' was pretty cool… for a boy or a girl," Jane murmured. "I used to think that if I was ever… picking out names, I'd…" Her voice trailed off, buzzing thoughts bubbling around her mind - not to mention an irritating ghost still around.

"_That's a stupid name. Get over your fuckin' sister, Jane. Sheesh." _

He was probably right, admittedly, but it was put rather harshly.

After she spoke with Clementine, Jane faced the preteen one final time. She didn't have the heart to directly say _goodbye_, but didn't want to leave the girl with nothing. Despite this bitter end, their time together had been special, and Jane treasured every last moment. She honestly didn't know where she'd be without Clementine, and was immensely grateful she decided to return to the group after prematurely leaving.

"Clem, I… I want you to be prepared-" her voice audibly cracked, but she kept speaking, "-for anything."

Clementine's amber eyes fell, but she nodded. "I know."

Jane took a deep breath and nodded; though she was still anxious about her decision, knowing Clementine would be alright helped clear her mind.

The kid was strong before they'd met, so there was no question - she'd grow much stronger in the future, even without Jane.

"I'm gonna go… take a little nap. I'm, um… not feeling that great." Jane swallowed back the lump in her throat, knowing this would be the last thing she said to Clementine. It hurt, it truly _hurt _to say goodbye so informally… but this was the only way out, and like hell she was about to be direct here. Clementine didn't deserve to be held down by Jane's decision.

Without even bothering to hear the kid's response, Jane turned away from the only person she'd considered family since the world ended, the only reminder that there was still good in the world.

_I hope you know this is for the best. Goodbye, Clem._

* * *

"_Guarantee our kid would've never lived past a month anyway,"_ Troy pointed out sharply, on the way back to the room. _"And it would've been ugly as all hell."_

She shot him an irritated glance, trying to muster up enough spirit to be offended, but let it drop rather quickly. Besides, if the baby had _his _genes, he wouldn't exactly be wrong.

"_You look like absolute shit, by the way."_

Rolling her eyes, she replied, "Thanks."

"_Good thing it's almost over," _he continued, almost in encouragement._ "Ain't you __**TIRED**__?"_

She was - _God_, she was _exhausted_. Worn and weary, she wanted nothing more than to rest. Due to the current state of the world, it was always assumed she'd never again have the luxury of decent sleep - but she'd found a way.

Her soul was spent, her body wilted like a dead flower. She allowed Troy to lead her back to her room, and he helped her find a long enough rope and a chair.

Looking at him now, she didn't see Troy as the demon that had haunted her every waking and non-waking moments; on the contrary, all that was standing before her was a spirit with a longing stare - as if he desired to rest, too.

_Of course. _The two of them had to be connected - Jane still being alive was keeping Troy from moving on. Perhaps in a way, her death could be meaningful in that aspect; maybe she could prevent him from haunting someone else - someone like Clementine. It could be her own exhaustion bringing her to these conclusions, but she couldn't find the strength to care.

This was the last time she'd have to worry about anything at all.

Placing a hand on her stomach, she paused on top of the chair.

Troy sensed her hesitation. _"You're choosin' to do the right thing for once, Jane,"_ he encouraged. _"The world doesn't want you around, anyway." _

At one point, the words would've scathed her, and she'd have been ready for a retort in response - but he was right. Between the baby growing in her stomach and the ghosts of the past following her around relentlessly, Jane didn't feel of much use to anyone anymore.

She would only become a burden on the world if she continued living - and through past experience, she knew _exactly_ what had to happen to burdens.

Those quick words were enough to end her pause. She knew her heart had already made the decision to go through with it, anyway. Doing this would kill her (_their?_) child, but she wouldn't be the one to do the deed - in fact, she'd be sparing it from this terrible world with no blood on her hands.

This was the best option for everyone, wasn't it?

"_Come on, let's go, Jane."_

For one final time, she wavered - the thought of the afterlife frightened her, as there was so much left unknown. His choice of words also puzzled her.

"Go?" She whispered, her eyes wide and unfocused. "But where… _where_ is there to go?"

His features began to harden, icy hands guiding hers towards the noose. Gently, he placed it around her like a necklace. A chill coursed through her body as the room's temperature dropped, as though she'd been frozen in place.

Her eyes would not leave his, staring deep into the endless pools of black; that very darkness called to her, edging her forward on the chair. His cold hands reached up to touch her face, pulling her closer to him until she slipped off completely.

And as she did, his arms clawed around her body like tendrils, catching her by the neck. The last lights of the world flickered out, that sinister laughter once more echoing through her mind.

"_**Away from here," **_he croaked, the words slow and strangling._** "Together."**_


End file.
